


Glass Wings

by BunnyBookThief



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Character Death, F/M, Kinda, Mentions of Violence, Morality? Who's she?, Mutation, OC As Spiderman, Robbery, Secret Identity Squared, Trauma, Violence, Weasel is best boss, angst is my lifeblood, cursing, fanfic of a fanfic, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24706714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyBookThief/pseuds/BunnyBookThief
Summary: Being Spiderman had been hard enough before being thrown in prison, add in being a college student and struggling to make rent in a place as expensive as New York, and you get a very tired spider.  Now that she's out, her apartment is gone, her furniture, any money she had saved up, all of it poofed from existence.  Luckily, she's still handy with computers and can cast a wide net all across her island to find anywhere that's willing to hire felons.  With a bit of luck, things might just turn out well.This is my first fic, please be gentle?
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 2





	Glass Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [we are all meant for softer things (even, especially, you)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17584976) by [meekinheritance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekinheritance/pseuds/meekinheritance). 
  * Inspired by [bad timing (the clock ticks in spite of us)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903480) by [meekinheritance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekinheritance/pseuds/meekinheritance). 



> The biggest thank you to meekinheritance for inspiring me, I know the works are really similar right now with only one chapter out, but as it gets longer we should see more major differences. And another huge thank you to my best friend, GodCat812 for lending me one of his characters, beta reading, and letting me rant at him in confusion.
> 
> Please enjoy!

As soon as the notification popped up on her phone, Olivie read through the rather terribly worded job off that had just come up on Craig’s List that would work with someone like her, though the poster could have cleaned it up a little bit before they sent it out into the internet. 

It read as follows “in need of a full time dishwasher at a bar called Hellhouse, address is Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children, not a scam, immediate hire.” Olivie looked it over and sighed, she had best get dressed for the interview. Beggars can’t be choosers after all, and she can take care of herself just fine.

Getting to Hellhouse was no problem for her, she had a bike she’d saved from a junk pile and fixed up a year ago and it still worked fine from her unexpected absence. She parked her bike three alleys down from Hellhouse and walked the rest of the way. When she tried to enter the front door, her spidey sense blared a warning, making her tense as someone seemed to melt from the shadows near the door she was headed to.

“Are you lost, kid?” 

The person, an elderly man with bushy white facial hair, asked, Olivie shifted slightly “no, I’m here for an interview, the dishwashing position?” 

Her voice rose at the end, making it sound like she was asking rather than telling, and making her seem younger than she was. The old man huffed, looked her over, then seemed to dismiss her. “This ain’t the place for kids like you, now scram.” 

Naturally, she didn’t take this seriously and tried to move past him anyways. He grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her around, and pushed her back towards the street. “I mean it, kid, get lost.” With that, he melted back into the shadows.

Olivie huffed softly, straightened her clothing, and resolved to get in another way. She walked around the block, got in behind the building, and started to climb up the walls. Once she’d made it to the roof, she waited for a chance to slip in, when it came, she took it silently. Now that she was inside, she straightened her clothing and hair one more time, took out her resume and other needed papers, then went to greet her potential new employer.

“Hello?” 

She called into the empty bar, already on alert for this to end up being an actual scam at best or a human trafficking trap at worst. What she gets instead is a brunet man appearing from behind the bar and yelling at her. 

“Who the hell are you? And how did you get in here?!”

“I came in through the front door, like the ad said.” She deadpanned at him.

This did not seem to please the brunet man “no way would Patch let someone like you in here.” 

She tilts her head at him slightly “should I be insulted by that? I think I need to be.” 

The brunet man ignored her and started to walk towards the door she just entered through “Patch?! Patch! What the hell are you-”

“He didn’t let me in!” She protested, cutting off the man mid word and midstride, like the rudest person ever. He turns to face her properly, eyes already rolling “you just said” she cuts him off again “I said I came in through the front door, like the ad wanted.” 

He peered at her intensely “being highly evasive, huh? Great job, kid, you don’t seem like you have it in ya. But really, what are you doing here? This is not a daycare.”

Now, she’s officially annoyed at him. “I came here for the job, of course.” 

That seems to trip him up a bit, again. “Why would someone like you be answering a weird ass ad like that? Is it a lack of survival instinct or are you just that dumb? I’ll admit I was looking for people, the opposite of you, but you shouldn’t be here!” 

She shrugged at this “it says not a scam right there at the end, and I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.”

“Yeah, nah, absolutely not. Get out of the way, I’m going to give Patch a piece of my mind! Letting kids in here, what is he thinking?!” He started to walk towards the door again then paused “but first, I gotta throw you out. Come on, the sooner you’re gone, the sooner I can find a dishwasher.” 

“Honestly, he didn’t let me in! I waited until he stepped away and snuck inside.” She hastily explained, feeling a bit guilty for literally going over the old man’s head just for an interview. 

“Patch doesn’t leave his post. How did you get in?” She shrugged “I’ve been told I’m really good at blending in with the background. Maybe his perception score is too low?” 

His lips twitched slightly “yeah, nice Dungeons and Dragons reference, but that’s not enough to make me consider hiring you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her “how did you get here so fast? I put the ad up like, twenty minutes ago, tops.” 

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it up for him to see “I have alerts set on my phone for new jobs and I have a bike.” She put her phone away after he acknowledged that he’d seen it.

He scoffed at that “that means you live nearby and there is no way you, looking like that, are anywhere near here. Try a different tactic, kid.” 

Olivie hadn’t felt this much frustration since her lab mate copied her final exam answers and got them both in trouble back in high school. “What’s wrong with how I look?”

“Oh, nothing. Which is why you can’t work here.” 

“What?! Why?! You haven’t even asked me any questions or looked at my resume, nothing!” Finally, her voice stopped being so even, her frustration coloring it. 

“No, I’m pretty sure I interrogated you, actually.” He disagreed and started back towards his bar, she followed after him, still holding her paperwork in one hand. 

“I meant job interview questions, like, what do you have to offer my business, how do you describe your reaction to stress, things like that.” She gestures with her papers in his general direction “you’re the employer, you should know that.” 

If she hadn’t needed this job so damn badly, she would have walked out already, or slapped him with her resume then left. “Look, as much as I need this position filled, I don’t think you’re going to be able to handle it, or wanted for more than two weeks at most.” She clenched her fist just enough to wrinkle her papers “and I promise you that I can handle anything you throw at me AND I’ll stick to this like dragons stick to gold.” 

He sighed, he was growing tired of her, but that sucked for him, she wasn’t leaving without good reason. “I can guarantee that you won’t be able to handle it and that you’ll wish you never saw this bar in the first place. Christ, kid, what kind of place do you think this is? An actual school for wayward girls? So leave, never come back, scram!” 

Olivie straightened herself up to her tallest height, which wasn’t very tall, and stared this man dead in the eyes, trying to channel her friend’s soul searing stare as she did so. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so against this, but my name is Olympia Williams and I’m-” she was cut off by the man yelling “nope!” At her faster than if she’d offered him a rock and called it candy. 

“Kid, come on, really, no names at least! Do you not understand what this place is?” 

She twitched, just slightly “a place that hires felons?” 

He points at her “exactly why I can’t hire you to work here, this is a place for sewer rats and feral dogs, NOT lost little mice.” 

“I’m not a-” she sighed “look, I’m stronger than I look, I’m a hard worker, and I don’t try to steal from my employers.”

“Okay Stuart, go find the Little House.” He just would not let go of her seeming to be innocent, could he? His arm position was more than a bit awkwardly, he seemed to even feel uncomfortable about it. 

“Wouldn’t Timmy Brisby be more appropriate?” 

“No, you’re not cautious enough to be him.” He dropped his arm back down onto the bar, thankfully. His observation is fair, honestly, but not the point in this. 

She studied his face, but, he was unmoveable, a lost cause in getting what she needed (a job). She groaned this time and got closer to the bar to put one of her pieces of paper on it “fine. Could you sign this then, please?” 

He looked at the paper suspiciously “I don’t sign things if I’m not legally required to.” 

She felt insulted “no, the least you could do if you aren’t going to hire me is sign this so I can show my parole officer that I’m attempting to rejoin society.”

It was amusing to see someone else’s brain screech to a stop, now she understood why her mother laughed when she did the same thing. 

“Your what? You have a WHAT?” 

“A parole officer, you know, for felons? You seemed able to keep up better than this, is it the whisky you keep twitching to grab?” She raised an eyebrow at the man who stopped reaching for the bottle of whisky he left on the bar earlier, likely before she walked in. 

“You, you went to prison? You, a small fluffy animal invoking kid went to prison?” 

“Well, yes? I’m still myself.” She shifts her feet “I was only in for eight months, it wasn’t too aw-” he cut her off again, she was getting very tired of this circular cycle. 

“Dude, are you okay?!” He gestures at her again “look at you, you’re telling me that you went to prison, looking like that?” 

Olivie huffed “please stop pointing at me as if it clears up any of your confusion. I’m fine and if you aren’t going to give me a job, I need to keep looking somewhere else.” 

She pointedly pushed the slip of paper closer to the man across from her, he looked down at it then back at her “how are you even standing here right now?” 

She deadpans at him, her hands twitching “using my spine and my legs. How do you stand, sir?” 

He smirks at her, finally relaxing, he seemed to have resigned to actually interviewing her, thank goodness. “I guess I can tell you what to call me, none of this sir bullshit. I’m Weasel.”

“If the shoe fits, I suppose” she snarked. 

“I know right? So, what did they haul you in for?” He seemed more comfortable the longer he talked about her crime, she answered promptly before he could open his mouth again. 

“Grand Larceny, fourth degree.” 

“Nice white kid like you? Get caught with daddy’s credit card after he reported it missing? That sneakiness could be useful-” she curled her lip in disdain. “No. I didn’t steal it, I never stole wallets and I definitely didn’t keep them. And we didn’t have good enough credit to have a credit card.”

This gave him pause, apparently she would keep catching him off guard. She got the sense that such a thing didn’t happen overly often.

“So, you’re telling me that you’re innocent?” He arched an eyebrow at her. She nodded, starting to curl into herself “yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Fuck, kiddo, that sucks.” That, was not the response she was expecting, it took her off guard, more off guard than anything else had lately. “... You believe me? That’s a new feeling.”

Weasel gestures at her again “have you seen yourself? Spent any time with yourself? Of course I believe you.”

“You keep mentioning how I look, why?”

“You look like Cinderella and Luna Lovegood somehow had a kid who then had a bastard child with the poster child of innocent orphans. Do you have radish earrings, do you have mice that sew your clothes? Elves that cobble your shoes?”

“... That’s very descriptive of you, are you a writer in your off time? And no, I don’t have radish earrings, or any magic creatures making me clothing.” She found herself reluctantly amused by Weasel’s shtick, he really did have a way with words, just in an insulting way. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, rather than an insult.”

“It’s not a compliment but whatever floats your boat.” Weasel said, reaching for the whisky bottle again, this time, she says nothing on it. He pours himself a shot, downs it, then pours another.

“Well, thank you anyways. It’s the most creative compliment I’ve ever gotten.” She smiles at the man, pushing her paper just a little bit closer, putting it almost in line with the bottle, practically forcing him to look at the damn thing. True to what she wanted, he looks at the slip of paper, and pushes it back towards her?

“Ya know, something similar happened to me back in the day. I was pinned on drug charges though.” This man made no sense to Olivie, didn’t he hate her on sight? And now he’s being sympathetic, she was getting really lost in this conversation and had barely any idea of how to reorient herself in it.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” She swallowed a mean remark about his appearance, best keep it short and semi-sweet.

“Oh, I get why they thought it was me, but I managed to get underground before they came sniffing around too much.” He shrugged off her apology with what was clearly practiced ease. She’d been here too long, she had other jobs to scout, but he kept talking and she was terrified of being too rude. In an attempt to move things along, she produces a pen for him and sets it on the sheet gently. This too was ignored.

“Now I get that I have this whole Peter Pettigrew vibe going on but you? You’re pure Neville.” That was insulting, she’d always thought of herself as a Blaise Zabini, the one from the books of course, but she understood the point he was trying to make. 

He suddenly changed his posture and bore his eyes into hers with an intensity she hadn’t seen in years. “So, you think you know what kind of place this bar is, huh? How’d you find out about it?”

If he was asking this, he likely was reconsidering hiring her. Her eyes gleamed at the sense of a second chance, she wouldn’t fuck this one up.

“I did some minor digging, you used to be based in San Francisco, came to New York, likely because of the earthquake, sorry that happened to you by the way, and that you have your own sort of screening process. And, the dead pool, but that one’s called a myth.” She placed all her known cards on the bar and waited.

“If that’s what you call minor digging, I’d like to exploit the deep dive. If you work here, of course.” He was seriously considering her, good, she needed this job badly.

“It’s not my primary area of expertise, but I can get by. Chemistry and bioengineering are what I was studying before.” He offers her a drink, she considers for a moment and simply asks for water, no sense pushing her luck for alcohol and soda was always too sweet for her tastes.

“... Are you sure this is where you want to work? There’s no take-backs in this industry.” He cautioned her, he seemed tired but not closed off as much as he had been.

“No, but nowhere else has let me get this far without pay that would leave me unable to afford a nice box, and, I have people that need me still.” 

“No, no, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that last part. That is not information you give if you’re going to work in a place like this, god fuck, kid.” He blurted, she was being too honest then, time to dial it back a bit, but she caught on quickly.

“If I work here, does that mean I’m hired?” She crossed her fingers in her pocket, hoping just a little more than she could normally afford to.

“Hey, don’t get ahead of yourself! We aren’t done negotiating yet.” She grinned, just a bit “but we are negotiating, which means you’re considering it seriously.”

“Smug isn’t a good look on you, so wipe it off. You look like a cat that ate my damn canary, and I’m not here to be manipulated.” He told her pointedly, but he seemed to be amused.

“Sorry my charisma stat is so high. What are we negotiating? Hours, pay, duties?” She asked.

“The last one, duties. You can either just wash the dishes and sometimes help out front, or, we can add in more, lucrative ventures.” 

“What kind of ventures? I don’t do murder, arson, or forgery.” She quickly cut those out of what she’s willing to do, she didn’t mind being a criminal, not really, it was getting caught for something she didn’t do that set her off. As if she would be that sloppy with something she’d stolen.

“No, no, I was thinking more like carrying messages, during our working hours, whenever I need. And maybe a bit more larceny, as long as you don’t get caught.” 

She hummed softly as she considered it “tell me what hours I’ll be working and what I’d make if I just did the dishes, then we’ll see.” There was no sense in picking the more exciting option without seeing the stable one first.

“You work while we’re open for as long as there’s dishes to clean. You make 20 an hour doing just that. If you also do the other jobs, I’ll bump it to 40 an hour. What do you say, kid?”

She debated for a moment, but, she already knew what she was going to pick before she’d asked about the other options and their differences. 

“I’ll do it, dishes and messages and other things.”

“Then I guess you’re hired. You’ll need a name that isn’t what’s on your license. You aren’t Olympia Williams here.” Weasel told her bluntly, she felt joy burn through her veins faster than the spider’s venom did all those years ago.

“Thank you so much, you won’t regret this!”

“Yeah, yeah, now give me your ID so I can get you on the payroll and things for your parole officer. Don’t worry, I’ll shred it as soon as everything is set up.”

Reluctantly, she nodded and got out her wallet. She removed her ID, handed it over, looked at her new place of work, it didn’t seem so bad. Weasel took the bit of plastic and scanned it nearby, then he handed it back and she put it away.

“Do you know what you want to be called while you’re here?” She shrugged slightly.

“I’m not good with naming things, what would you suggest?” She asked.

Weasel thought for a moment “normally people go with animals, they’re generic and easy to think of.”

Olivie nodded and thought “what about… Dove?”

“No, stay away from things that deliver messages in ANY movie or history. That includes parrots, pigeons, or owls.” Weasel snarked.

“Okay.. I like Sparrow, does that work?” She offered “after all, you keep comparing me to soft, rounded things, why not that and it still has wings.”

“Sparrow, huh? Yeah, we can make that work.” Weasel smiled at her, and promptly shoved his shot glass into her hands “we open in three hours. Get scrubbing.”

And that, was that.


End file.
